


And No Rivers and No Lakes Can Put The Fire Out

by Unemployedelf



Series: An Angel Once [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Footnotes, Holy Water, Non-Linear Narrative, Other, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 01:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19367830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unemployedelf/pseuds/Unemployedelf
Summary: Raphael is still an angel right now, though not for long. He looks out in Heaven, and sees Beauty. He smiles, and turns to Uriel to share that smile, but she rolls her eyes, so he turns to Michael instead, who does smile back, although its more to appease Raphael than join him.He doesn’t care. They’re newly made, and he has things he wants to explore.





	And No Rivers and No Lakes Can Put The Fire Out

Raphael is still an angel right now, though not for long. He looks out in Heaven, and sees Beauty. He smiles, and turns to Uriel to share that smile, but she rolls her eyes, so he turns to Michael instead, who does smile back, although its more to appease Raphael than to join him.

He doesn’t care. They’re newly made, and he has things he wants to explore.

______

It’s the start of fall, and the world didn’t end a year ago, and some change.

Their cottage, a small Victorian thing that was last owned almost 100 years ago, is on a beach.

Well.

It up on a hill looking over a beach.

Sometimes when Aziraphale wakes up* it will be with the bed empty, the sun just peeking out from over the skyline, and a cup of coffee on his bedside table, Miraculously the perfect temperature. 

On those days, he stretches, enjoying the feeling of his joints cracking, and gets out of bed. He will finish his coffee, maybe while doing a crossword. Once the coffee is done, Aziraphale will then change out of his jammies, and head down to the beach. 

______

At first, demons didn’t realize what Holy Water could do to them. 

It was generally assumed that it wouldn't be pleasant, that if it was made in Heaven, by Angels or God, than certainly it would hurt. They lived with this baseline knowledge for hundreds of years, and felt safe.

______

Crowley is always at the same spot. He sits close to the water, the waves lapping gently at his toes every now and again. He pays it no mind, his stare as wide as the ocean in front of him.  

His glasses are off, and he only wears a long sleeve shirt and pants. The rising sun and wind cause his hair to resemble fire.

He is, Aziraphale thinks, not for the first time, and not for the last, the most beautiful thing ever made. 

______

Crawly sees his first demon die of Holy Water sometime between Adam and Eve getting banished, and Noah’s Ark. He can’t remember exactly when.

In any case, some angel decided thwarting this demon would not be enough, and pulled out a little water-skin of Holy Water.

And she threw it at him.

Crawly was hiding, then, behind a shack. He still thinks of those screams.

______

Crowley doesn’t say anything as he hears Aziraphale pad up to him, nor when Aziraphale kneels down behind him, or even when the angel wraps his arms around the demon’s neck, hugging him to his chest.

______

He holds some of the children of Mesopotamia in his arms, hanging off of him, others are around his legs, and an older one is clinging onto his back.

This is all he could save.

Others would not leave their parents, and others had parents who would not let him take them.

He saves five children out of hundreds, and watching the rain from he stands on dry land, Miraculously safe from the weather.

Crawly looks up into the sky, feels the rain that hits his face but disappears before it hits the ground, and imagines it burns. Wishes it burns.

______

Sometimes Aziraphale will simply hold Crowley in silence, the sounds of birds and waves the only thing between them. Other times Aziraphale speaks.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” Aziraphale might ask. This one is the most common thing he says, during these days. He says it now.

______

Crawly isn’t quite sure where he stands on Holy Water. He doesn't want to test it, at any rate, but he’s curious. 

And if that’s not just like him.

He knows Lucifer is immune. Saw him once, in the Rebellion, get accidentally blasted with it during a tussle with...someone. He already Fell by then, and the Holy Water should had destroyed him, Crawly would think later.

And yet.

 And yet.

Is it an Archangel thing? Is it a King of Hell thing? Is it a First Fallen thing?

Crawly’s mind swirls with questions.

______

Aziraphale holds Crowley to his chest, the sand digging into his knees, though he doesn’t let this bother him. He softly runs his fingers through Crowley’s hair**, waiting for Crowley to speak, if he likes. If he doesn’t, that's fine as well. 

Aziraphale closes his eyes, and listens.

______

He wonders what would happen if he was to try and make Holy Water now. What would happen?

Would he burn, just from the act?

Would anything happen?

Would it backfire, the water not being able to heal or bless, but harm and curse instead?

He doesn’t attempt it. Not now at least.

______

Sometimes Crowley doesn’t respond to Aziraphale, but instead push his body back into Aziraphale’s, who will at that point not say anything until Crowley stands up, and softly says, “Come on, angel, lets go inside.”

Other times, Crowley will answer.

“Everything,” He says, sometimes.

“Nothing,” He says, most of the time.

Both of these are true.

______

He stays out of all angel’s, except one, way for thousands of years, and he intends to keep it that way. He stops thinking of Holy Water, as he comfortably feels it will be no worry for him; Aziraphale would never, and the past is in the past. 

______

“Did Heaven ever tell of the origins of Holy Water to the other Angels?” He says today, a break in their routine. 

Aziraphale pauses, thinking it over. “No,”  he says finally, gently. “I don’t believe so.”

Crowley hums noncommittally. He raises his hand to grasp at Aziraphale’s hand that was resting at the demon’s sternum. 

“Would you like to tell me?” Aziraphale asks hesitantly. 

Crowley had told Aziraphale about his past almost a year ago, and yet, after that first time, had only told Aziraphale about his stories from Heaven a handful of times.

Aziraphale is oh, so, afraid of hurting Crowley with this fragile trust he's given him.

______

He thinks about Holy Water in the late 1550’s. The Arrangement has only been around for a couple hundred years, no time at all, really, considering how long they've been alive. 

They’re almost caught.

Aziraphale doesn’t know it***, and Crowley is hard pressed to make sure he doesn’t find out anytime soon.

It’s Hastur, of fucking course its Hastur, who sees Crowley when he mets up with Aziraphale, who corners him afterwards, a cruel smile on his face at the thought of Crowley getting punished. 

Crowley has prided himself in being a brilliant liar. He’s been lying about his feelings for about 5,500 years, and about his identity for longer. How hard could this be, to lie himself out of?

He spins tales of corrupting angels, of tempting one to Fall. He tells Hastur how he’s been working on this angel for a year, but decided to give up, but how he might try on another, one more impressionable. 

Hastur doesn’t believe him, Crowley thinks, but with nothing to go on, lets him go, with a threat to keep his eyes on Crowley.

As he walks away, Crowley thinks he won’t survive this conversation again. 

 

______

“Not much of a story,” Crowley tells him, and Azirphale very much wants to see his face, because his voice is absent, and isn’t telling Aziraphale how he should respond. 

“It’s still important,” Aziraphlae decides to say. “If it's about you.”

______

He tries making Holy Water for the first time since before Adam and Lilith, in 1860. 

He gets a bucket, fills it with water, and places it on his kitchen table.

Stares at it.

Stares at it some more.

_ Well _ , he thinks.  _ Best of luck, me. _

He doesn’t touch the water, but instead places his hand just over it, barely a millimeter of distance between the two. 

He thinks about the first time he made Holy Water, and all the times after. He thinks of God, and Angels, and Heaven, and Her Love. 

The water turns black under his hand, and then turns to sludge just as quick. 

Crowley hisses, and throws the bucket out his window in rage. 

He tries 3 more times that night before giving up. The results were all the same.

______

Crowley kisses the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “It was only us.” He said softly, barely audible over the waves. “Me, Michael, Uriel, Gabriel, and Lucifer. And God.” 

Aziraphale, who was made so late into existence, barely older than mankind itself, still thinks it strange to hear stories of Before. 

“We were in Heaven, the only thing made so far. Just tall white walls, carved out of beautiful stone.” Crowley pauses here, briefly. “It changed a lot, Heaven did. From when I went Up, last year. Colder. Blanker.”

______

He carries the Holy Water Aziraphale gives him carefully, and when he gets into his place, he quickly puts gloves on before deciding where to put it.

Better safe than sorry.

But.

What if.

______

“Did- did it bother you? When you went Up, I mean. As me. To see their faces?”

Crowley stays silent for so long after the question that Aziraphale begins forming apologies in his head.

Angels aren't siblings, none of them are. They are all children of God, but so are humans, and cats, and worms, and every living thing ever made. So. Not siblings. More like Employees who have all been in the same office for many, many, many years, and are at this point uncomfortably knowledgeable about each other.

But. 

Aziraphale knows the Archangels are-  _ were- _ different. Closer. Siblings in the closest way an angel can get, similar in the way a childhood friend, kept with all throughout adulthood, might be considered a sibling. 

______

Crowley sits on a bench with Aziraphale, laughing- a rubber duck!- but he can’t help but let his thoughts wander.

Aziraphale would have surely died in the Hellfire, but what about him, in the Holy Water?

He thinks he might be fine. He thinks he might not.

Is it an Archangel trait, or is it a Lucifer trait?

He still doesn’t want to test it, especially now, but. 

The demons, Aziraphale says, bought it so easily.

What if, what if, what if. 

______

“Besides that one time, in the 19th century, with Gabriel, I haven’t seen any of them in over 5,000 years.” Crowley says finally. “And when I finally do, they’re trying to kill my angel.”

Aziraphale can’t help the small wiggle of contentment at ‘my angel’, and Crowley notices, leaning into him and kissing his hand again. “They’re dead to me, love.” he tells him, quietly, but fiercely. “I don’t want them anymore, and I haven't for thousands of years. The only angel I need around is you.”

______

It’s the start of fall, and the world didn't end a year ago, and some change. 

Aziraphale is asleep next to him, curled up on his side, facing Crowley, white blonde locks shining like stars in the moonlight. 

He is, Crowley thinks, not for the first time, and not for the last, the most beautiful thing ever made. 

Crowley still gets out of bed, though, and heads toward downstairs, to the kitchen, where he gets a glass a water from the sink.

He doesn't need to drink it, doesn’t need to do most things he does, but he enjoys the feeling of its soothing coldness. 

Crowley almost finishes off the glass, and sets it down on the counter. There’s only a few sips left in the cup.

Crowley stares at it.

And stares at it.

He picks up the glass, holding the top of it with one hand, and gripping the bottom with another.

He thinks of Aziraphale, and Healings, and forgiveness, and their love. 

The water seems to shimmer for a second, and if Aziraphale was awake, he would be able to feel the Holy love coming off that glass of water.

______

Aziraphlae lets go of Crowley, moving his hands to tip Crowley’s head back, slightly, just enough for Azirapale to kiss him on the forehead. Crowley’s eyes flutter close. 

“It was an accident, Holy Water.” Crowley tells him. “Didn’t know what I was doing, really, just starting messing around, sticking my nose in things.”

The two of them rearrange themselves, Aziraphale spreading his legs so Crowley could fit between them, laying his head against Aziraphale's shoulder, as he tells him the story. 

______

“What are you doing?” Michael questioned, watching as her fellow made Archangel carefully dipped his fingers in a shallow pool carved into Heavenly marble, fingers going back and forth rhythmically over the surface of the water. 

Raphael shrugged easily. “Don’t know.” He answered with an easy going smile. “Just feels right.”

As his fingers dance across the surface, the water seemed to shimmer, and, just a bit, glow. 

All Heavenly creatures nearby would feel the energy coming off this water now, could feel the holy spirit ingrained in every molecule of it.

The only other Angels around were Gabriel, and Michael, so they look over, curious. 

“It feels…” Gabriel trails off, frown on his face.

“Holy,” Raphael finishes for him, proud of his work.

“Show me how you did that,” Michael demands.

 Raphael smiles.

* * *

 

*Now that he’s ‘retired’, he allows himself the indulgence of slumber, every now and again

**Crowley decided to grow his hair out again, after the Apocalypse that wasn’t. It is currently almost chin length, with curls that could still be called Heavenly. 

*** He won’t know about this event until the winter of 2021

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this is purely inspired by the fact that I always attributed Raphael with Holy Water. I don't know why.


End file.
